


Breakfast + Shotguns

by starrylizard



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: BAMF!fluff, Fluff, Gen, I have hereby created a new genre, Prompt Fic, let them nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylizard/pseuds/starrylizard
Summary: An unfortunate pair of robbers get between Jack and Mac and their post-mission breakfast.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 50





	Breakfast + Shotguns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutiesonthehorizon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiesonthehorizon/gifts).



> A quick flash ficlet for Cutiesonthehorizon who prompted this one.

Jack and Mac stumbled a little, shoulders bumping, as they pushed through the door to their favourite post-mission diner. Smorties was a little mom and pop place, close to Mac’s house and always open, that served one of the best all-day breakfast menus in L.A.

At 2am on a Tuesday, the place was fairly empty. So, there weren’t many witnesses to the two guys, a little bloody and battered and clearly exhausted, snickering like tired school kids as they made their way to a booth toward the back.

“Jack and Mac, as I live and breathe.” Della, the owner and still the most hard-working employee of her own empire greeted the men with an appraising look. “It’s been a while. I won’t ask if you’re keeping yourselves safe. Do you want menus?”

Jack chuckled, but gave Della his most flirtatious grin. “The Big Breakfast Burrito with a side of fries.”

Mac was already leaned back into the corner of the booth, eyes at half-mast and hair mussed from sleeping on the jet. “Pancake stack with maple syrup,” he mumbled, gracing Della with a sleepy grin.

Della just smiled fondly. “The usual then,” she agreed congenially. “I’ll be back to bring you boys some coffee,” she added as she wandered off with the order.

Jack settled back into the cushioned seat with a contented sigh, also finding it hard to keep his eyes from drifting shut. He yawned and scrubbed a hand over his face and through his faux hawk. It had been a long couple of days, chasing a black-market animal trader across South Africa and Botswana. Now back on home soil, straight off the Phoenix jet, all they wanted was a decent meal and to sleep for a week.

Jack’s sleepy musings were interrupted by the distinctive _clack-clack_ sound of a shotgun being primed as someone entered the diner. Mac’s eyes also were suddenly very open and alert. Both men rolled their eyes and sighed quietly in unison.

Jack pulled his sidearm and loaded it as softly as he could, muffling the sounds against this body, as he peeked his head up cautiously over the top of the booth. Mac raised his eyebrows in a question as Jack sat back down and Jack answered by holding up two fingers on his right hand. Two men, both armed.

Jack pointed to the right and indicated himself, then to Mac and to the left. Mac nodded his understanding. The usual play was for Jack to take out one guy, this time the one on the right, and use him as a shield to grab both the guns. While distracted, Mac would incapacitate the guy on the left and ensure neither of them were getting back up to keep fighting.

Currently, Mac and Jack were completely hidden in their booth up the back and it was likely the gunmen thought the place was empty as they started yelling threats and making a scene. Jack was in civilian clothing (no body armour) same as Mac, so the element of surprise was their best friend at this point.

Jack signalled, then got down low to circle the booth to the right, staying out of the line of sight of the gunmen, both of whom had their backs to the main dining area. Behind him, Mac scooted to the corner where there was a stack of folded table cloths and other dining room materials. When Jack felt Mac slide in behind him and tap his shoulder, they made their move.

Like a well-oiled machine, Jack grabbed the big guy on the right, spinning him toward his partner and efficiently taking him out at the knees. The positioning meant that when the man fell, he stumbled right into his partner and made it impossible either man to use their weapons without taking each other out.

Mac was suddenly there, wrapping the guy that had been on their left in a tablecloth and holding him in place, as Jack gave the first guy a swift kick and relieved both men of their shotguns.

“Guns are not toys, fellas,” Jack groused tiredly.

Mac wandered to the window and pulled down some disused Christmas lights, using them to bind the hands of both men. Between Mac and Jack, they then slid the two men, trussed up and struggling, into a booth near the front of the diner.

Jack holstered his own weapon and cleared one of the shotguns. He handed the other shotgun to Della. “Mind keeping them there until the cops arrive, love?” he asked.

Della nodded, expertly checking there were cartridges in the gun and then clapped Jack on the shoulder. “I got this from here, gentlemen. Thank you! Your order will be ready shortly. Breakfast is on the house.”

Mac slumped his was back to the booth with a small wave and a yawn that split his whole face. Jack winked and followed in a similar manner. They ate breakfast like incredibly hungry zombies, sipping at coffee that didn’t have any chance of having an effect at this point. All the while they answered the questions of the highly amused police that came to pick up their suspects, already incapacitated and wrapped up in tablecloths and Christmas lights.

When Della went to collect the plates from the booth in the back, she found two very fast asleep men. Mac was curled into the corner of the booth, long legs sprawled in different directions as his neck bent at an unhealthy angle where he’d slid down into the corner. Jack was asleep with his head cradled on his own folded arms, snoring gently into the table.

She didn’t have the heart to wake them just yet. Let the poor men nap.

THE END


End file.
